


Shame, or: How Mr. Stark Got Peter in Bed

by MrHyde



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Analingus, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Roleplay? Kind of? Not really, Rough Oral Sex, ageplay? Also kind of not really?, eating ass, kind of a bromance, this might be the most convoluted thing I've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrHyde/pseuds/MrHyde
Summary: Peter and Tony's dynamic has always been unique, but it changes as he gets a little older. Things get more real, and confusing, and old shame becomes...exciting.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	Shame, or: How Mr. Stark Got Peter in Bed

Peter and Tony had always been “Peter and Tony”. From the first time they met, they had a special dynamic that no one ever commented on, but everyone saw. Tony was, disturbingly, caring and paternal, made irrational by a fondness no one expected. Their surrogate relationship was mostly expressed in small ways: how Tony called Peter “kid” any chance he got; how Peter idolized and deferred to Tony; how Tony would pat Peter on the arm after a scientific insight, or squeeze his shoulders as he walked past the boy eating breakfast. There was never anything more, no anxious looks or long glances. Peter was innocent and respected Tony, and Tony was terrified of the kid getting hurt.  
Things had changed since then. Peter was nineteen now, and something had shifted in their relationship. Tony was…”Tony” now, not “Mr. Stark”. He seemed more relaxed around Peter, more comfortable. He listened to Peter a lot more, though he still got over-protective when a mission or experiment seemed too dangerous. He joked around with him, said tawdry things that made Peter laugh hard enough to distract from his blush. He called Peter “dude”, and “man”, saving “kid” for more intimate moments. Before, Tony had been affectionate and doting and anxious about Peter’s safety. Now, Peter felt respected. Tony made him feel valuable and smart and powerful, capable of making (some) decisions on his own. 

It made Peter feel hot.

Like right now, leaning against the kitchen counter in the Tower, with Tony sidling up next to him, their arms pressing lightly, casually together, as he stated intimately, “Two creams, two sugars. Nice pants, dude. They suit you.” Then he strolled out of the room. Peter glanced at his basketball shorts, not noticing anything noteworthy besides the lack of underwear beneath them. Microflirtations like this had been happening with more frequency lately, and Peter had never felt so wanted, and confused. Of course when he was sixteen he touched himself thinking about Mr. Stark, but only when the repression limit burst and necessitated a dark room and a big, shame-filled orgasm. He felt horrible for fantasizing about his mentor, it felt like a betrayal of the one person he could always count on. It also made Clint’s occasional “yes daddy Stark” quips sting a little deeper than intended. Peter did his best to maintain focus around Mr. Stark, which was part of the reason he was so willing to submit to the man’s will. But now that Tony wanted to listen to Peter’s desires and ambitions and not just guide him, Peter found it easier to not get distracted by the man’s precise fingers, his wooly facial hair, and his form-fitting clothes.  
He also found himself fantasizing about the man more, and feeling less guilt for it. Tony’s newfound casual openness took the pressure off their relationship to look or feel a certain way, and they had gotten to know each other on a more real level. He was still Peter’s mentor, and offered lots of guidance and insight, but they also just really liked each other. They both loved technology and experimentation, they both had strong beliefs, and they both liked to just sit in a room and talk to someone. So they wound up sitting across from each other often, rather than side by side as a single unit. Peter no longer had to glance sideways at Tony’s belt, he could casually look while Tony was talking passionately about his latest lab explosion. And those casual moments would build up, those images of Tony’s arms in a tight red shirt, the tightness of his pants in the mornings. They would grow and build into visceral ideas of what Tony’s hands would feel like on his bare thighs, until he found release, and could move on with his day.  
Peter wasn’t sure if Tony noticed his glances, and he never brought it up. But he did start commenting on Peter’s clothes, his intelligence, his body. “Your brain is fucking hot”, or “You get that butt from webswinging, or holding beakers?”, always just innocuous and casual enough to be played off. He started working out at the same time as Peter, headphones in while he curled weights, only glancing at the boy when his back was turned. Which of course made Peter want to antagonize and distract Tony as much as the man’s nonchalance and sweaty, sinewy arms distracted him. The teasing, the deep, soft intimate voice. Especially the hand ghosting just under what is normally considered “lower back”. Peter was starting to see the billionaire playboy in Tony. And it intimidated him.  
He knew Tony was hitting on him, but Tony was, evidently, a righteously flirty man. Peter was too embarrassed to admit he had read the tabloids of Tony’s casanova lifestyle, and sometimes wound up locked in his bedroom as he imagined watching Tony slide a reporter’s panties off and lick her. But when they worked together in the lab or the field, things felt the same as before. He was professional, efficient, and demonstrative. Sure, he made some comments about how Peter looked much better without the lab coat “blocking the view”, but Tony made much more brazen comments to almost everyone he interacted with. So Peter was stuck, standing in the kitchen in shorts, trying to figure out where he wanted to move in their relationship.  
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. That night, Peter and the Avengers stood on the terrace, drinking wine and talking about normal things. Peter wore a white t-shirt and jeans, choosing to don his muted blue frames as he felt a little vulnerable that night. Tony walked out to greet everyone, and Peter couldn’t help but stare. Tony looked dapper as always in a dark grey suit, and Peter watched as his magnetism affected everyone there, even though they’d been exposed to his charm for long enough to develop immunity. He walked slowly over to where Peter was standing apart from the group.

“Dude, stop thinking about me naked.” Tony’s voice floated on the night air.

“What? I wasn’t—”

“Come on, you know you were undressing me with your eyes.” The man winked mischievously, before saying, “You could use more than your eyes, if you want.” Peter should have been nervous, but he was busy being shocked.

“What? I don’t…understand. Tony, I don’t get this bit you’re doing.” Tony’s sparkly eyes gazed into his, before he let out a little sigh and stepped closer. His voice went low and intimate again as he spoke.

“Peter. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” Peter started to retort, but Tony kept talking. “I can’t hypothesize as to how you don’t already know you’re gorgeous, but if you want someone to prove it to you, I’ve been thinking about it for three years and I think if I bury my tongue inside you, you’ll get the hint. I’ll be in my room.”

Peter watched as he walked away, yet again. He didn’t know how to feel. He knew the image of Tony’s face between his legs had already made him half hard. Tony was serious. Tony was never serious, so when he was, it was clear. He wanted Peter, now. And Peter wanted him. The boy stared out over the city, wondering if this would be crossing a line. “Or maybe it’s the finish line,” said Tony’s voice in his head. Peter had thought about this and worried over it for so long, about reciprocation, about appropriateness, about trust, about…sex. With Mr. Stark. With his mentor, the guy he could always count on. Tony. Peter was flushed all over, something he’d seen happen to other victims of Tony’s blunt coquettishness. He realized, more than anything, he wanted Tony’s hands on his flushed chest. He wanted to feel Tony squeeze his muscles and lick his neck and grab his ass and—he was opening Tony’s door.  
The man was sitting on the edge of his bed, tie loosened. He stared expectantly.

“So…prove it, then.” Tony grinned, and beckoned him closer. Peter stopped directly in front of him, looking down nervously into the handsome face. Tony’s hands wrapped around his thighs, squeezing gently. Peter let out a breath. Tony pulled him down until he was straddling his lap, still holding him behind his legs. Slowly, his big hands slid up and over Peter’s thighs. Peter whimpered and Tony moaned deeply as he finally squeezed Peter’s perfect plump ass, hard and long. 

“You want proof? Lay down and I’ll give you proof.” He flipped Peter around onto the bed, hovering over his cute face for a moment. “I’m going to make sure you have fun, dude. I’ve worked a few asses before.” Peter’s surge of jealousy was interrupted as he was spun onto his stomach. Tony hit a button somewhere and all the walls became mirrors. “I want you to watch me devour you.” Peter looked to his side and saw Tony remove his jacket, broad shoulders straining against the crisp white shirt. Then he bent over Peter, his chest pressed against the boy’s toned back as he pressed his body into Peter’s. The tight denim of Peter’s jeans was thin enough to feel the bulge in Tony’s slacks as he moved his groin up and down the swell of his backside. Tony put all his weight on Peter and bit gentle at the boy’s neck. Peter’s breath fluttered as the man put just enough pressure before sealing his lips over the same spot. His hands flicked open the button fly on Peter’s pants, before he pulled back and put his hands on the waistband. Peter watched him in the mirror, his perfectly messy hair and sharp beard, as he slowly, slowly pulled the garment down, stopping just as soon as Peter’s ass was exposed to the cold air. “Fuck, dude. Perfect.” He didn’t wait to get the pants the rest of the way off before his mouth was buried in his cheeks. Peter let out an aborted whimper, as Tony’s tongue slid painfully slow over him, broad and wet and warm. Tony moaned deeply as he tasted the boy, tongue flickering with the vibration and Peter whimpered again. The rough scratch of Tony’s beard on his sensitive skin made the dripping, hot pleasure of his tongue all the more unbearable. He was flicking his tongue fast now, occasionally turning slow and teasing and twisting around the most sensitive spots, before bursting into rapid, ravenous licks.

“Shit, Tony, fuck.” He moaned high and loud when Tony’s hands gripped his ass again, his tongue sliding just a centimeter inside of him. “More, more of that, now, Tony.” Tony responded by burying his tongue as far as it could go, stroking the velvet heat. Peter groaned and shut his eyes, and felt Tony’s mouth move away for a moment.

“Are you watching this? It’s pretty hot. You should see yourself, dude, you’re a fucking wet dream.” His tongue returned to its torture, and Peter turned his head again to look in the mirror. He sobbed in arousal at what he saw: Tony Stark fully clothed, face sliding up and down Peter’s pink ass, his pants around his thighs and his shirt rumpled slightly. Shameful fantasies of his were coming to life: of Mr. Stark pushing him wordlessly into a closet and sliding into his throat, of sharp smacks to his ass with a ruler, of powerful authority taking him as they pleased. He pushed his ass back up onto Tony’s face, who groaned loudly and slid his tongue smoothly in and out of the boy’s hole. “Tony I’m, I’m close, you’re going to make me cum.”

“Fuck yeah, I want to see you cum, you better watch yourself as you cum to see how pretty you are, man.” He tripled down on his efforts, and Peter writhed under him, an endless stream of uninhibited moans spilling from his mouth. Peter began to thrust backwards desperately, trying to get every bit of Tony’s mouth on him. Tony laughed in approval, and Peter turned to the mirror just in time to see his hand swat a red print onto his pale ass. He screamed in pleasure, and watched as Tony’s cut jaw flexed as he let all inhibition go and fucked Peter fast with his tongue. Peter felt a bubbling in his blood as his untouched cock shot ropes of cum all over Tony’s bed, watching how his face melted into pure, filthy bliss. Tony only grew more ferocious with his tongue, carrying Peter through an orgasm that left him sweating. When Tony finally slowed down and leaned his body back over Peter’s, Peter could fully feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants as he pressed it slow and firm into his ass. Peter panted as Tony groaned quietly. “See? Gorgeous.”

Peter laughed, and something occurred to him. “You said you’d been thinking about this for three years.” Tony nodded, watching him closely. “So when I was 16,” a perhaps involuntary thrust from Tony, “you were thinking about…?” Tony went still.

“About how fucking great it would be to stretch that pink mouth around my dick? Every damn day,” he said matter-of-factly. Peter’s eyes fluttered at the thought of Mr. Stark staring at his lips and thinking such dirty things back then. Tony began to grind against him again, slow and steady, hissing at the pressure. “But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or feel weird around your mentor. So I decided to wait, and get to know you before I fucked you, which was new for me. But you’re so damn sexy, Pete, and smart. And a good person. And funny. And so cute.” Peter was blushing, squeamish under Tony’s undivided attention. “You make me so hard. All that ‘Mr. Stark’ stuff was a good way to distance myself from you. Every time I call you ‘kid’ it’s a way to remind myself to stop thinking about bending you over and sliding into you with everyone watching. It worked, for awhile, until I started getting hard anytime you called me Mr. Stark. Or anytime you walked around with your body on display in that stupid tight suit I made you. You’re a fucking distraction.” 

Peter was quiet for a long moment, before, “I’m sorry.” Tony started to reassure him, but Peter stumbled forward.. “I’m sorry for being a distraction, Mr. Stark.” Tony went completely still. “If you want to punish me, you can, Mr. Stark. You’re the boss.” Peter felt Tony’s weight disappear, and turned to face the room, expecting to find it empty. Instead, Tony stood a few feet from the bed, looking at him darkly. “Did I—”

“If you want Mr. Stark, you’re going to get him.” Peter felt a thrill rush through him. “Sit on the edge of the bed, kid. Now.” Peter slid to the foot of the bed, his own feet landing on the soft carpet, and looked up at the man, who approached slowly. He stopped an inch from Peter, and Peter stared directly at the bulging groin in front of him. Mr. Stark unbuckled his belt, watching Peter watch his hands. “You’ve been wandering around in your boxers, sucking on popsicles like a child, and you expect not to end up on your knees?” The zip of his fly, and then the man pulled out a thick, juicy cock that made Peter drool. “I know you want it. I don’t care if you want it. I need to get you out of my head, some I’m going to get in your head.” Peter tore his eyes up to meet Tony—Mr. Stark’s, dark and focused but sparkly as ever. “Open up, Peter.” Peter parted his lips, and the older man gripped his dick and rubbed it all over Peter’s lips. “You want it? You want to put that talkative tongue of yours to work for me finally, or you wanna go pout in your room about being told what to do?” Peter almost cried. He was paralyzed with arousal. Mr. Stark slowly ground his length against Peter’s face, the plush, warm skin making him groan subtly. “Well, kid? Answer me when I speak to you.”

Peter swallowed. “I want you to use my mouth.” Tony smiled tightly, and put his hands in his pockets.

“Get to work, kid.” When the boy’s pink lips finally wrapped around his dick, he leaned back and smiled. It was even wetter and hotter than he’d imagined, and the boy knew how to work his tongue. He started to undo his tie, and unbutton his shirt as he kept speaking. “You like the way that feels? My heavy meat in your pretty mouth?” Peter moaned and slid further down. “Was this what you wanted, all these years? You were always anxious around me, was it more than just me being Mr. Stark? Did you want to be between my legs, making me cum? Hmm?” Peter’s eyes watered as he looked up, nodding. Tony’s shirt fell open as he grabbed Peter’s hair suddenly, pulling him sharply off the bed and to his knees. “You could’ve had it, y’know. My cum, whenever you wanted. But I had to wait for you to grow up and quit worrying to even touch your ass.” He tugged his shirt off, only a tight white undershirt remaining to frame his muscly shoulders and powerful arms. His hand was still in Peter’s hair, and tugged hard as he fucked deep into his throat, making him choke. “This is what you owe me, kid, for making me play protective daddy when I could’ve been doing this.” Peter pulled off to apologize again, and felt the man’s cock slapping soundly across his face. His own spit smeared his cheeks, and he whined wantonly.  
“Fuck, get up and put your hands on the wall, I’m going to find out if you’re as tight as you look.” Peter scrambled to his feet, whipping his shirt and pants off before leaning against the mirrored wall, sticking his ass out for the other man. A few rough smacks landed, sloppy and too hard. Peter flinched slightly as he felt the other man’s body against his, his bare cock now sliding slickly between Peter’s cheeks. Hands roamed the boy’s body, kneading and groping every inch of toned skin. Peter started to move his hips a little when he felt something slide around his neck. 

“Is that your belt, Mr. Stark?” Tony tightened his hold on the strip of leather.

“I’m going to need all the leverage I can to get 3 three years-worth of fucking your slutty ass.” He pulled the front of his undershirt over his head, leaving it on his shoulders as he started to push firmly into Peter.

“M—Mr. Stark, please go slow, I’ve never been with someone as big as you.” He caught his eye in the mirror.

“If you wanted that, you wouldn’t have called me Mr. Stark.” He didn’t slow down, and Peter pressed back against him, dripping from the angry look on the man’s face. 

“Please, Tony.” He screamed in surprise and burning pain as his mentor slammed into him, angry and hard.

“Too late for that, kid.” Mr. Stark fucked Peter deep, and smooth. His hips moved fluidly, and the arm holding the belt, holding Peter up by his neck, flexed angrily as he ravaged the body of his ward. Tony groaned, using every bit of his concentration to not show Peter how much he was struggling to hold off orgasm. His free hand moved to dig his nails into Peter’s ass, as he whispered filthily, “Fuck, kid. I’ve fucked a lot of asses. I’ve even fucked a few with you in the room next door, imagining it was your tightness I was filling up. And yours might be the best I’ve ever had.” Peter’s screams melted into airy, vulnerable whimpers now. 

“You feel so good inside me, Mr. Stark, I’ve wanted to feel you for so long, used to sit on my fingers and imagine it was you sneaking into my room at night and burying yourself inside me, fuck, please don’t stop Mr. Stark, please.” His thrusts grew desperate and rough, making Peter shout. “FUCK, fuck me, yes, cum inside me Mr. Stark, fill me up,”, Peter’s breathing grew ragged as he felt himself about to cum. “PLEASE, Mr. Stark, fuck, shoot your cum in my ass, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, M—Mr. Stark—daddy.” 

Peter watched in the mirror as Tony’s whole body tensed, holding his breath for a second before releasing a long, growling yell as he pumped into the kid, shooting his load in the tight heat of his ass. He panted for air, still sliding in and out of Peter as he cursed loudly from oversensitivity. “Fucking slut. Fuck.” One last thrust had Peter cumming painfully, his abused body slumping against the wall. Tony pulled away, and sat panting on the bed, cock somehow still hard. Peter slowly turned around, and walked to stand in front of Tony. They laughed awkwardly, until Peter sank down onto his knees, and began licking the cum off Tony’s wet, bare dick. 

“Glad to know Mr. Stark’s still in charge.”

“Glad to know Mr. Stark still exists. I like Tony, but I was worried you were bored of me.” Tony chuckled.

“Just focused. When I want something, I get it.”

Peter licked the cum-covered shaft of Tony’s cock, the thick white streaks a searing contrast to his pink mouth. He caught his reflection in the mirror, and smiled shyly.

“You’re going to have to keep being my mentor. I do look kind of gorgeous.”

**Author's Note:**

> So people seemed to like Patriotism, which I think is the hottest of what I've written. I don't find Chris Evans that attractive or his chemistry very vibrant, so writing that made me really think about the power dynamic and relationship between him and Peter, and how I could play with that to make something really fucking steamy out of a pairing that doesn't naturally thrill me. So I'm kind of trying to do the same with Tony and Peter (whose father-son dynamic I tend to find a little dull). Im not sure how well this worked, it's a little whiplashy, I think it was better in my head. I aged Peter up ever so slightly to justify the somewhat OOC diversion from his usual persona. I hope it's not really weird and confusing! Let me know what you think! And what other pairings you'd want to see!


End file.
